Another Day
by Pawfoot
Summary: Nearly two hundred years after he believes Elizabeth to have died, Will encounters the strangely familiar Jacqueline Sparrow. Could she really be Jack's daughter? Did he actually find the Fountain of Youth? How does Elizabeth fit into this? DISCONTINUED
1. Chapter 1

Another Day

What if Jack really did find the Fountain of Youth? After AWE closes, Elizabeth vanishes. Her son is unsure where she's gone to, but he knows she left with Jack Sparrow. Will assumes she died, but two hundred year later, he meets the quirky and oddly familiar Jacqueline Sparrow and begins to wonder if he had been wrong. Sparrabeth, Will/OC

Officially off hiatus! Changes have been made to the first five chapters to ensure they line up with the rest of the story, but there have been no significant rewrites, because… well, because I'm lazy.

A/N After a conversation with a friend about Will being immortal and Elizabeth being mortal, I got to thinking about what he would do after Elizabeth's death. One thing led to another, and I ended up with Jacqueline Sparrow. The use of Sparrabeth came into the story after a conversation about whether or not Will would or even could get over Elizabeth. The story is told in first person, but the POV changes. I promise I will make it painfully obvious. I apologize now for any grammar/spelling problems. I'm so bad that even four betas couldn't possibly fix everything.

Thank you to my wonderful betas, SpottedLilly and Redskilstiltskin on FanFiction and my cousin (We'll call her Lizzie) and another good friend (We'll call her Fox).

No, I don't own PotC, no matter how much I might wish it.

-Will-

Sunset to sunset. Twenty-four hours where I didn't have to pretend I wasn't suffering. One day to reflect, to remember, to grieve. A time when I didn't have to be Captain Turner.

She'd just gone… Off on some godforsaken venture of Jack Sparrow's, no doubt, and left it to our son to try and give me some explanation of what had happened. He said she had left four years before then. What else could I do then believe her dead?

After Elizabeth… died, I struggled. Throwing myself into the task of ferrying souls, I started refusing to go ashore when I could. It was my father who convinced me I needed to take that time to rest; my father who was still part of the Dutchman's crew. He would, I suspected, remain part of the crew as long as I was captain. Sometimes, that bothered me, but most of the time, I was extremely grateful.

Eventually, I yielded to his requests (although, by the time I was giving in, they had probably progressed to demands) and returned to Shipwreck Cove. Maybe I just liked torturing myself. I couldn't go somewhere else. If I was going to reflect, this was certainly the place to do it.

+Jacqueline+

_One day earlier_

Packing the basket, I considered for a moment about putting some alcohol in it. In the end, I decided against it; these two days were about Mum, who had never approved much of drinking. Odd when I thought about how Dad had given me access to the liquor cabinet since I had been about fourteen…

"I'm going to the beach," I informed Dad.

"Ah yes," he grinned at me. "'Appy early birthday, Jackie." It was great that I never had to explain it to him, my need to be there on these days. Dad just got it.

"I'll be back before sunset tomorrow," I promised. Not that it mattered; so long as I showed up back home before noon a week later, Dad wouldn't worry.

"'Old up a second, I got your present 'ere…" He paused. Our house had quickly fallen to the level of environmentally hazardous after the accident. "Somewhere."

Laughing, I replied, "Why don't you give it to me when I get home?"

"Yeah…" he muttered distractedly as he rifled through our landfill.

I could tell it was going to be a perfect night for camping. True, the weather here could change on the turn of a coin, but I had a good feeling about today. After making sure my picnic was secured to the back of the bike, I set off towards town.

In my opinion, there is no better place to live than Shipwreck. The island was formerly the home of the famous (or infamous, depending on whom you asked) Brethren Court and many of the inhabitants could trace their ancestry to a few pirates. 'Course now it was nothing like that. With two daily ferries from Florida, we had become something of a secret tourist trap. Not well known yet, but it could only be a matter of time… Not to mention the rich folks who owned summer homes. The only really unfortunate thing was the island's lack of a school. Growing up, I was required to take a ferry to the mainland for school. It wasn't until I started university in Chicago that I realized it was possible, even normal, to not get up at 5 a.m. for class.

As I reached the town, I started weaving through familiar side streets. Another problem with tourism, the main streets where much more crowded than they used to be.

"Well, well, well, Jacqueline Sparrow."

Speaking of unfortunate… I braked as Stephanie Beckett and her posse stepped in front of my path.

"Not that I really have any objections to hitting any of you, but I'd really prefer to avoid the police investigation that would follow," I snapped.

Beckett: blond, skinny, far too clever for her own good, and one of those people whose family owned a summer house here. I guess one could say our relationship had never been great; she threw rocks at me in kindergarten. It had deteriorated to a point way beyond that once we hit high school. All I can say about that… well, she started it.

Taking in my beat-up bike, she raised her eyebrows and laughed derisively. Five seconds later her less-than-intelligent group joined in. Spying the picnic basket I had strapped to the back, she added, "Oh how cute. Going to visit your dead mummy? Your dead mummy who was too much of an airhead to notice a drunk driver coming straight at her."

I wasn't entirely sure what that was supposed to mean, but I was sure it was an insult. Grabbing a loaf of French bread sticking out of the basket, I naturally slipped into a fighting stance.

"Take it back," I growled, tip of my bread inches from Beckett's face.

"Put it away, Jacqueline!"

Oh great, the cavalry was here, in the form of Derrick Norrington. Back in high school, he'd been class president, valedictorian, star quarterback, and a general all around nuisance. I swear he must have made a promise to patrol Beckett's and my conflicts, because he always managed to show up right when I was about to hurt her. Pity the Navy Academy gave their students summer leave.

"Put it away," he repeated in a voice that obviously wasn't used to being ignored.

"Absolutely not," I replied, forcing calm. "I'll have a go at anyone who insults my mother."

He put a hand on my shoulder. "Come on, she's not worth it."

"It'll make me feel a whole lot better," I replied, trying to lunge at Beckett, "And get off me."

"If you put the bread away, I'll let go of you," Derrick countered.

Damn, he was smart. Deciding that I was just wasting time with them, I grudgingly lowered my 'weapon' and returned it to the basket. Swinging one leg over my bike, I pushed off, swerving to miss Beckett and the Beckettets. I grinned, hearing screams. Derrick might have yelled something, but I missed it.

Mercifully, I didn't run into any other complications on my trip other than the always difficult hauling of the picnic basket down the cliff. It was a good thing I kept my camping gear hidden on the beach. After making sure I had set my tent above the high tide mark, I sat outside, reflecting.

Flashback

_I stared at the door. Any second now, she'd come through the door. I'd always made a game of it. For some reason or another, I had to be staring at the door when Mum came home._

_DONG!_

_The door bell. I knew it couldn't be Mum; she would have a key. Opening the door, I was even more surprised to see the David Norrington and Derrick, his son. I didn't like the way they looked. It was to dark._

_"Is your father here?" Norrington asked his voice solemn. _

_Nodding dumbly, I held up a finger, signaling them to wait. I made my way to the kitchen._

_"Jackie?" Dad sounded confused. I guess he wasn't used to things throwing me off. They rarely did._

_"Door," I managed._

_I followed him back to the front of the house. The conversation between Dad and Norrington was too low for me to hear, so I tried to catch Derrick's eye. He avoided my gaze. That was odd. Not that I liked it, but I found that he stared at me a bit more than was normal. _

_"Dad," I said, trying not to let my voice shake. "What's going on?"_

_When he turned to me, I could see the concern in his eyes. More than anything else so far, that scared me. Nothing bothered Dad._

_"What's going on?" I asked again, my voice soaring several octaves this time. _

_"There's been an accident," Dad explained, his voice hollow, but clear. "Mum's in the hospital."_

_"No!" I shouted. No, no, no! This wasn't how it was supposed to work. I pushed past Dad to get out the door. Derrick tried to grab me, but I wrenched my arm away. "Don't you touch me!"_

_I ran. Not the most mature or sensible decision, but in my head, it made perfect sense. I sprinted until I collapsed in a heap on our beach. I wasn't really sure what happened that night. I might have cried, but I don't remember. Possibly I fell asleep; I couldn't tell. All I know was that somehow, it was morning, and Dad was shaking my shoulder._

_"The 'ospital called after you left," he said cheerful. "Mum's a bit battered but doing fine. We're going to see 'er."_

_That was it. No, 'Do you have any idea how worried I was?' No, 'I was up all night worrying,' or 'Don't ever do that again!' It was so typical Dad, I couldn't help but grin._

_"Okay."_

_It was a mark of how crazy my family was considered that no one bothered to stare at us on the ferry; even though I was in rumpled clothes, covered in sand and salt. Okay, the people in the hospital stared, but that might have had more to do with the fact that I had just sprinted down the halls._

_I had just rounded a corner when a doctor grabbed me. "Jacqueline Sparrow?" he asked._

_I nodded. "Could you please let go of me?" Considering the situation, I think I managed to be very polite._

_Ignoring that, he asked another question. "Where's your father?"_

_Ignoring him in turn, I changed the subject. "Could I go see my mother now?"_

_Something flickered across his face that made me stop fighting his grip. It looked almost like…pity. Pity? _

_Oh God, no._

_At that moment, Dad came around the corner. "Wot's going on 'ere?" _

_The doctor finally let go of my arm. "Jack Sparrow?" he affirmed. Dad nodded. "I… I regret to tell you that your wife died just this morning. We, um… tried to call, but no one was home."_

_"NO!" Someone yelled. I realized with horror that it was me._

_The doctor plodded on; I was sure this wasn't the first time he done this speech. "We thought she was okay, beat up, but we thought she'd make it. Once the shock wore off, and we were able to get a full measure of her injuries, we found that her heart had been damaged. There wasn't anything we could have done. I'm sorry."_

_Oh God, oh God, no! Leaning against the wall, I sank to the ground and placed my head in my hands. I could hear Dad and the doctor in the background, but I tuned it out; I didn't want to know._

_"Dearie?" I looked up into the face of a matronly looking nurse. "This is for you." She pressed a folded piece of paper into my hand, and then walked off._

_What the hell? Unfolding the paper, I recognized Mum's handwriting._

Jacqueline,

I know by the time you get this, I won't be alive. I'm sorry; I never wanted to leave you and your father like this. There is so much I need to tell you and so much that will make little sense in this letter. To start with, I'm naming you my heir. Everything I have that can be passed down is now yours. I wish I could explain more, but there isn't time. Secondly, there is an important item I need you to take care of. In our attic there is a chest; you will know it when you see it. There are people who would seek to use what the chest contains for their own ends. Protect it, Jacqueline, guard it well. I love you.

Your loving mother,

Elizabeth

_I never did go and find the chest._

End Flashback

I blinked; the sun was sinking into the sea. Oh wow, I couldn't believe I'd spent that long just sitting here. Blinking again, I realized my eyelashes were wet. Ah…

Wiping the tears off my face, I stared out at the ocean. Sliver by sliver the sun slipped into the water. As it got to the last few pieces, I could feel the familiar tension. Maybe I'd see it tonight. The last bit of light vanished, and suddenly, a shot of green flew into the sky.

Oh. My. God. The green flash, I had just seen the green flash!

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Yawning, I struggled out of my sleeping bag. I pulled a water bottle out of my basket and stepped outside.

"Hello."

I nearly fell over, startled. No one came to this beach. Yet I turned around to find a guy, head slightly cocked to one side, watching me.

"Er… would it be better if I left?" He stood up. It was apparent he would have left if I said yes. That made me feel slightly guilty. Technically, this wasn't my beach.

"No, no, it's fine," I replied. "You just surprised me."

He smiled slightly. "Sorry. I'm Will Turner."

Now that made me grin, a name straight out of one of Mum's and Dad's stories. "Jacqueline Sparrow."

A/N- Some end notes: Shipwreck Cove is close to Florida purely for my convenience. And I apologize now for anything I did that makes you want to hurt me. I already hear it about Sparrabeth from Lizzie every time she goes over it.

Note on updates: I really sincerely hope to update this at least once a week, but with my schedule and my betas' schedules/laziness (you know who you are) that is highly unlikely. We will make an effort to put out a chapter at least every two weeks… maybe.

Anyway, lovely potential reviewers, I love reviews. Trust me; I have extremely blunt betas so knock yourselves out. Having said that, flames will be used to roast marshmallows.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N- I've been getting a lot of questions, so let's get that out of the way first.

Q: Is Jacqueline the daughter of Elizabeth and Jack?

A: Yes, she is.

Q: Then how is this taking place in modern times?

A: I promise all will be revealed; it's part of the plot. However, if you look at the summary, you might be able to get a hint.

I would like to note two things about this chapter.

1. I sincerely and honestly hate this chapter. It's that chapter that you have to have, but don't want to write. I'm sorry, the next few should be better.

2. This chapter is unbeta-ed. I take all blame for any spelling or grammar mistakes and/or inconsistencies.

Also, thanks to my lovely cousin Lizzie. Without her help and patience, this chapter would have never happened. And no, PotC is not mine; I haven't made much progress with Disney's lawyers.

Chapter Two- In Which Jacqueline and Will are Very Confused

+Jacqueline+

I was sure I hadn't imagined the shock and confusion this statement brought to his eyes. Now that was intriguing. Rest assured you aren't the only one confused here, Will Turner.

I took his thrown-off-ness as an opportunity to study him. His eyes were the first thing to catch my attention. Warm and brown, they were pleasant, but I got the impression that there was a gulf of loss and pain behind them. They seemed much too old for such a young man. And the way he was dressed… his clothing should have been donated to a museum maybe about a hundred or so years ago.

My interest was perked, and that was a problem. Today was supposed to be about me and Mum, not unraveling the increasing enigma that was Will Turner.

He must have noticed my staring, because he quickly looked away as he said, "You're sure you don't mind? Me being here, I mean?"

Part of me wanted to say yes, I minded terribly, go away, but another part, a somewhat larger part was screaming, 'Of course I don't mind!' I listened to that part.

"Not at all," I replied. "Er… would you like something to eat?"

Smooth.

-Will-

She was undeniably strange, Jacqueline Sparrow. Perhaps it runs in the family. I wasn't sure what shocked me the most, the fact that she seemed so much like Jack or that she looked so much like Elizabeth. True, her hair was a dark brown, as were her eyes, and the face was less angular. All things aside, she could have been Elizabeth's sister. Yet the way she held herself seemed to perfectly mimic Jack Sparrow. One could tell she wasn't expecting this, but she was already taking control of the situation.

Oh! I looked away. Lost in thought, I hadn't noticed I'd been staring. Had she been staring, too? Then I remembered I was still wearing…well, I'd been wearing the same thing for the past two hundred years. Now she probably thought I was crazy.

"You're sure you don't mind? Me being here, I mean?" I asked again. I desperately wanted to stay, but I knew if she wanted me gone, I'd go.

"Not at all," she replied. "Er… would you like something to eat?"

"What?" That wasn't what I had been expecting. Having been preparing myself for her to tell me to, 'get the hell out of here' or something similar, the offer caught me off guard.

"You know, like breakfast?" Jacqueline elaborated. "I'm sure I over packed, I always do."

"Oh right, yes, I would."

I watched her rifle through a basket, pulling out some fruit and bagels. The more I thought about it the less sense it made. How many people honestly decide to pitch their tent on a beach?

She tossed me an apple and a bagel, and we sat like that for a few minutes, eating. My curiosity finally got the better of me, and I asked the question still plaguing me. "Why are you camping on a beach?"

Her answer was simple, and only added to my confusion. "It's my birthday."

"So instead of spending it with your friends and family, you're camping on a beach, by yourself?"

"Yeah, my mother and I came here every year," she explained.

Her mother? Maybe… No! Don't think like that. "Is she coming? Should I leave?"

"No," she replied, looking away, "she died when I was fourteen."

Great… Try to strike up friendly conversation, and end up bringing up her dead mother.

~Jacqueline~

I wasn't angry at him for asking; it wasn't his fault. And I didn't want him to leave; it was sort of nice to have some company. Sensing the awkward silence, I changed the subject.

"So what are you doing here?"

He started, and the puzzled, as though he wasn't sure what his answer was. "Er… I'm taking a short holiday. I work on a ferry so we don't get much time off, but my father…" he babbled.

Laughing, I held up a hand. "Okay, okay, don't hurt yourself." I paused for a moment before asking, "A ferry? Do you come here often then?"

"Not really; I guess you could call it a private charter. We go where we're needed."

We spent the day like that, just talking. There were times when I could tell he wanted to ask something, but couldn't bring himself to. It was probably about my mother. Later on, I gave in.

"You can ask, if you like."

"What?"

"About my mother, I'm not going to go to pieces about her."

"I'm not quite sure what to be asking, Jacqueline."

"Then I'll just start from the beginning."

And I told him my story. How I spent that night on the beach, how she died… What was in the letter. Something I'd never told anyone before, not even my father.

"So now, I come back here to remember, reflect I guess. I don't want to forget about her, and this was our place."

"You've come here every year?" Will asked.

I nodded, but then contradicted myself. "Well, no. There was this one year, ah… I think I was ten? Yes. When we got to the cliff, we could see a young man sitting on the beach. Mum turned around and said we needed to leave. When I asked why, she said 'He needs it more than we do.'"

There was something in his eyes now. I couldn't quite place it; longing? More to avoid his gaze than anything else, I looked at my watch and started.

"I need to be getting home."

His next question surprised me. "Can I walk you?"

"I don't mind," I replied, "but you should know, we'll probably run into my dad, and he's not exactly normal. I love him to death, but most people think he's crazy."

Will laughed, standing up and offering me his hand. "Trust me; I can handle it."

A/N~ Reviews are loved; flames will be used to roast marshmallows.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three- In Which We Discover the Real Reason this Story is Rated T

A/N- As always, my betas rock, and I don't own PotC. However, Christmas is coming!

+Jacqueline+

"Have you ever ridden a bicycle before?" I inquired.

Looking back I saw Will glaring at me. He was clutching the handlebars tightly, and both feet were still planted firmly on the ground. Meanwhile I was precariously perched on the handlebars.

"I can do this," he replied.

He must have tried, because we made it about four feet. Then we fell over.

"Maybe we should just walk," I suggested.

Will and I made it into before we ran into a familiar (to me at least) face. Perched on his shoulder was an irritating little monkey.

He didn't stop walking, but acknowledged me, "Wench."

I shot back, "Bastard."

The monkey stared at Will, pulling on his owner's hair and jabbering. As they passed out of sight, I could still here the chattering.

It was such a natural, normal exchange for me that I completely forgot Will wouldn't understand. It wasn't until I caught the confused look on his face that I thought to explain.

"I know it sounds weird, but that happens all the time. It's really sort of like a family feud; he's Alexander Barbossa."

A flicker of recognition. "He's not a descendant of-"

"The guy who kidnapped one of my ancestors? The guy who tried to kill another ancestor numerous times? The guy who repeatedly stole the second ancestor's ship? Hector Barbossa? Yeah, him." Wait a minute… "You wouldn't happen to be descended from _that_ William Turner, would you?"

"He's in my family," Will replied. "And you're a Sparrow."

I grinned, always was incredibly proud of my heritage. "Yup, Captain Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann or Turner."

Something I almost recognized flitted across Will's face but when I tried to interpret it, it was gone. "I guess that makes us family."

I shrugged. "Extremely distantly."

"Oi, Jackie Sparrow!" Loping calmly down the street was a slight Asian young woman.

"Cheng," I greeted my friend warily. I loved her to death, but she tended to be… well cruel isn't the right word; but she wasn't usually friendly. She also considered any guy near me as my potential boyfriend and would attack them with a fervor similar to members of the Spanish Inquisition until she was satisfied that they weren't interested in dating me or decided to approve of them. Better just get it over with. "This is Will."

=Cheng=

I had to admit, I was surprised to see Jackie come walking up the street with a guy. It's not that she's unattractive, but the words 'stubborn' and 'eccentric' come to mind.

"Hello," I said, ignoring the defensive vibe Jackie exuded. "Mind if I walk with you guys for awhile?"

I didn't wait for an answer. Grabbing the bike from Jackie, I wedge myself between them.

"What if I minded?" Jackie asked, defeated.

"Why would you? I'm your best friend; of course you wouldn't care if I join you." I turned to Will. "I've never seen you around here before."

"I've only been here a few times," he replied.

What an evasive answer. I pressed for more. "A few times? When was the last time you were here? You're not a tourist, are you?" I narrowed my eyes. Shipwreck wasn't a commonly visited place, but we got enough tourists for many of us, Jackie and I included, to decide we didn't like them.

"I was last here ten year ago, and no, I'm not a tourist. I work on a ferry with my father."

Fair enough. "What brings you to Shipwreck then, Mr..."

"Turner. The history I suppose."

Well then. "Fairly well versed?"

"Fairly."

"We're leaving town," Jackie cut in. "I'd hate for you to have to walk all the way back from my place so…"

She desperately wanted to get rid of me, that much was apparent. "Alright, alright, but you're still on for tomorrow right? The guys will kill you if you miss it."

Jackie flashed me a condescending do-you-really-think-that glare. "I'll be there."

"Okay!" I skipped off, pondering the encounter, interesting air around the pair. It would be an ironic twist of fate, a Turner and a Sparrow. Personally, I had a rather different twist of fate in mind.

-Will-

"I'm sorry about that," Jackie said with a sheepish grin. "Cheng is my best friend, but she can be a bit much."

"A bit?" I laughed.

"She means well," replied Jackie just as we reached top of a hill. Indicating a house not to far off she added, "That's where I live. Er, are you sure you don't want to just leave me here? It's not that I have a problem with you coming, but if Cheng is a bit much, my father's a lot more."

I considered it, I really did. Part of me felt I'd be better off not knowing, but curiosity overwhelmed me. "I think I can handle it."

We reached the front door. "Well, if you're sure…." Jackie turned the knob and led me inside. "I'm home!" she called.

The house was a mess. I might not be one to talk, but I felt I'd managed to keep my living quarters livable, immortality aside. This house was an entirely new level of cluttered. Various tables were covered in stacks of books, maps, and random paraphernalia. Yet somehow, it fit. Jackie seemed right a home and if I was right about her father, I wasn't surprised.

"'Ello Jackie."

Jack Sparrow stared at me for a second, but didn't miss a beat. Turning to his daughter, he grinned. "I found it! It's on the kitchen table; perhaps you'd go get it?" Jackie darted off without another word.

"What are you doing here?" Jack demanded as soon as Jackie was out of earshot.

"Me? What are you doing here?"

"I live here! This is my 'ouse!"*

"That's not what I meant," I snapped. "You should be dead! How are you not dead?"

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

"That's not an answer!" Over nearly 200 years, I'd forgotten how infuriating talking to Jack Sparrow was. Sighing, I decided to give this topic up as a lost cause. "Fine, what about Elizabeth; do you know what happened to her?"

A look of surprise crossed his face. "Your charming murderess? I thought you'd know. 'ate to think finding the Fountain of Youth didn't 'elp her."

"The Fountain of Youth?" I asked. "You actually found the Fountain of Youth."

"Why do you think I'm still alive? And being the good friend I am, I offered to take Lizzie with me. Figured it might make a tad of a difference if she was immortal, too."

"So you don't know what happened to her?"

"Nope." Something shifted behind Jack's eyes. He was lying to me, or at least not telling the whole truth. Why?

Before I could call his lie, Jackie bounded back into the room, a small wrapped gift in her hand. "Didn't scare him to much, did you, Dad?"

Seeing them side by side, I realized how much Jackie resembled her father. At first, I had only seen Elizabeth in her, but her glinting eyes and wicked smile were obvious inherited from Sparrow. Not sure what to say, I glanced sideways out the window. The sun was sinking lower and lower.

"I have to go!" I blurted out, slightly panicked. I wasn't entirely sure what would happen to me if I lingered on shore to long, but I wasn't keen to find out.

Jackie loped past her father to see me out. "It was nice to meet you," she said. "Maybe you'll stop by Shipwreck again?"

"Maybe."

+Jacqueline+

"Interesting guy, Will Turner, wouldn't you say?" I grinned at my father. "Chance encounters can make days so much more interesting… Anyway, can I open it?"

I wasn't sure what it was, but given the size and shape, I had a few good guesses.

"Go on and open it, then," Dad egged me on.

Tearing the dark paper off revealed a battered, black compass. "No way."

I stared at my father. This was a family heirloom of insanely huge proportions. A compass that doesn't point north.

"I'm sure you'll find a good use for it."

I laughed. "Right now, I just wonder if it can tell me where the cake is."

A/N- * "This is my 'ouse!" Actually, it was Elizabeth's house; so technically, the house belongs to Jackie now.

I like this one much more than chapter two. Barbossa and Cheng are some of the characters I've really been looking forward to writing.

Reviews are loved; flames will be used to burn the rum.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- One of the name of a Court member has been stolen shamelessly from a musical, so brownies points to you if you can figure it out.

Don't own.

Chapter Four- In Which Undead Monkeys Are Debated

-Will-

I'd gained more questions than answers. Jack was obviously lying when he said he didn't know anything about Elizabeth, and Jacqueline looked so much like her… Could Elizabeth have been her mother? Even so, that made Elizabeth dead.

It shouldn't have bothered me the way it did. I'd though her dead for hundreds of years. Perhaps it was the knowledge she'd been alive and hadn't tried to reach me. She'd been with Jack.

Fury snaked through my veins at all of them. Jack for lying, Elizabeth for this betrayal, and Jacqueline for what she symbolized. Still, because Elizabeth was, well… Elizabeth, and Jacqueline couldn't really help who her parents were, I directed most of my anger at Jack. He'd been my friend; I had trusted him. _Yes, and look at how well that's always worked out for me._

"Is everything all right?" my father asked when I returned.

I started to answer, but was interrupted by a young man bounding over. "It's a girl, isn't it, Cap'n?"

Taking a deep breath, I tried not to yell, but my voice was audibly forced. "Mark, don't you have something more important to be doing?"

He considered it for a moment. "Nope, not really."

"Well then go do," I racked my brain, "…something else."

"Aye Cap'n!" Mark chimed, giving a jaunty salute before sauntering off.

My father repeated, "Is everything all right."

"He is close actually."

"What?"

"Mark. I met a woman named Jacqueline Sparrow today."

Mark, who had gone about 10 feet, turned around. "You met Jackie Sparrow?"

"You know her," I asked.

I suppose it made sense. When we asked Mark where he was from, he'd said Shipwreck. And he had only joined the crew a year ago.

"Everyone knows Jackie Sparrow, Cap'n."

+Jacqueline+

"Did it have to be so early?" Cheng grumbled as we trudged through the field.

The sun was still low in the sky; the air still cool. We were on our way to a very special meeting.

"Come on, it's not that much further," I laughed. "Weren't you the one worrying about me skipping?"

"Yeah, well…"

We continued in silence, mostly because the steep climb robbed us of all breath. Reaching the tip, I surveyed an astonishing sight.

The hill dropped suddenly into a dizzying cliff which formed a curved, well-protected harbor. More surprising was the structure inside. Dilapidated ships cobbled together formed a lopsided, crumbling building any sane person would avoid at all costs. Naturally, that was our destination.

We carefully began down a narrow path. It took a while to reach the bottom and a small, weathered dock. Tied to it was a slightly leaking rowboat.

"Would it kill them to be gentlemen every once and a while?" Cheng complained.

"This is what happens when you're not ready to go on time," I countered. "Come on, I'm not doing all the rowing myself."

"You're late," Barbossa stated.

"Don't look at me, Cheng wouldn't get out of bed."

To an outsider, it would have been a strange scene. Eight teenagers seated around a large table, all of them bearing a sword of some kind. This, minus my father, was the Brethren Court. After the defeat of the East India Company, the court split once more. Eventually, their descendants ended up back on Shipwreck. They stayed.

Marius: blonde, skinny with a pointed face. Pirate Lord of the Mediterranean. Jordan: Tall, African-American, always smiling. Pirate Lord of the Atlantic. Kalp: The class clown, for lack of a better term. Pirate Lord of the Indian Ocean. Pedro: Short, quiet, and a bit of a softy. Pirate Lord of the Adriatic. Selim: Intelligent, but kind of obnoxious. Pirate Lord of the Black Sea Cheng: Pirate Lord of the Pacific. Alex Barbossa/Bastard: Pirate Lord of the Caspian Sea. And me: Pirate Lord of Singapore.

"Am I the only one who doesn't know what's going on today?" I asked.

Marius placed a box on the table.

"Do I get to find out what's in the box?" I asked, suspicious.

"Wench, what do you think is in the box?" Barbossa sneered.

"Knowing you people, it could be anything."

"We'll give you some hints," Cheng offered.

"Fire away."

"It's round," Pedro stated.

"It's edible," Jordan added.

"And it's a baked good," Kalp supplied.

"Also, it's a day late," Selim said.

"You bought me a cake?" I guessed. They grinned. "I love cake."

As we sat there munching on delicious chocolate cake, the conversation drifted to a familiar topic.

"I hate the Midwest," Marius muttered.

"You picked the school," Cheng pointed out.

I moaned, "I hate Chicago winters!"

It was strange, as glad as we all were to be out living our lives, whenever we got together, we inevitable started complaining about college.

"All right, all right," Cheng interrupted. "Do we have to discuss such dreary things? I've got more interesting news."

_Oh please no!_ If Cheng was bad about boys hanging around me, the guys were zombiepocolyspe, end of all days, nuclear holocaust bad. It was like having six incredibly overprotective older brothers.

"Jackie's got a new boyfriend," she chirped.

I rushed to add, "He's not my boyfriend. And you say that like I've had a lot of boyfriends."

Cheng ignored me. "It gets better; his name is Will Turner."

There was a collective eyebrow raise.

"Will Turner, as in the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_?" Marius asked.

"That'd be ironic, wouldn't it," Jordan murmured.

Barbossa said, "It would explain why Jack got so agitated about him…"

"That monkey is not undead, Alex!" Selim snapped.

"How do you know?"

"It's not possible! It's part of a legend, just like the _Flying Dutchman_."

"You don't think any of it's possible?" Pedro inquired quietly.

"I'll believe it when Alex proves it," Selim muttered.

"What, you think we should shoot the monkey?" Kalp asked. "Animal cruelty, mate!"

"Not if it's really undead," Jordan pointed out. "Besides, he wouldn't have to shoot it, just take it out on a clear night."

Cheng cut them off, "Guys, you're missing the point entirely."

"No, no! Let's continue discussing whether or not Bastard's monkey is immortal." I knew it wasn't going to work, but still worth a shot.

"You'll have to introduce us next time you see him," Jordan stated.

Kalp agreed. "Yup, gotta make sure he's interested in more than your looks."

"Wench's personality isn't worth putting up for her looks," Barbossa muttered.

"Hey!"

_Beckett_

I've never hated Jacqueline Sparrow solely based on family history. Really, that would be stupid. Has that made it easier to hate her? Sure, but there's more to it than that. Not much more, but there is.

I was brooding again. Amazing, really, that no one else in my family seemed to care about regaining what should have been ours. Lord Cutler Beckett, poised to have it all, only to be defeated by a rabble of pirates.

Stretching and yawning, I got up to turn out the lights, but they flickered off before I could reach them.

From the darkness came a deep male voice, resonating like a crashing wave. "Stephanie Beckett, I have need of your assistance. This venture, I feel, could be mutually beneficial."

Darkness and deep voices tend to indicate powerful beings. Protesting would be moronic. "How can I help you?"

A/N~ Ooooo, mysterious, isn't it? I had fun introducing the court, and Mark, but it's hard to give everyone the attention I'd like to. There's just so many of them. Review are love, flames will be used to burn the rum!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5- In Which the Plotline Solidifies

A/N- I tried on Calypso's accent at first, but then had it pointed out to me that I had done it wrong. If it really bothers you that I didn't do it, feel free to rant about it.

Also, I'm not particularly pleased with how Beckett's scene turned out.

I do not own PotC. Bad things would happen if I owned PotC

_Beckett_

The man who stepped out of the shadows was much smaller than I expected. Dark, with a smooth bald head and pitch eyes, he radiated power and confidence. In that second, I knew I was just the means to an end. If I couldn't do the job, he'd find someone else.

"I am Poseidon," he said.

Deciding to play the ignorant, cocky kid, I replied, "Yeah, and I'm Aphrodite."

"If you think this is a jest, I shall take my business elsewhere."

Okay, that didn't work. "I'm sorry; it's just I don't get gods in my room too often. What do you need from me?"

Seeming appeased, Poseidon explained, "I'm offering you a chance to avenge your family. There is a chest of great value on this island. I want you to get it for me."

"I crave your indulgence, sir, but why is this chest so important?" Perhaps humble servant might be a better fit here.

"My daughter has, of late, been unruly. I will use this to punish her."

"How?" I rushed to add, "Sir?"

The god surveyed me coldly for a moment. Perhaps he thought I was too curious. Either way, he answered. "The chest contains the heart of her servant, William Turner. I'll use him to get to her."

"Where can I find this chest?"

"Do you expect me to give you all the answers?!" he roared, sending chills through me. "Use your brain girl! Do not fail me!"

A flash of light and he vanished.

-Will-

Mark wanted to press the matter, but I brushed him off, retreating to my cabin. Later, I regretted it. I like Mark most of the time.

"Brooding are you, William Turner?"

Whirling around, I was greeted by a familiar, if not necessarily welcome, face. "Calypso," I said coldly. Two hundred years later, I reckon I'm allowed to be a little bitter.

"I've a task for you."

"You mean aside from the one I'm already doing?"

The sea goddess chose to ignore that. "I think the chest may be in danger."

"What? Why?"

"Not important! You need to find it and protect it."

"Well, that might be a problem, seeing as how I'm stuck on this bloody ship!" And damn it, at the end of the day it's her fault!

"Aye, which is why I'm giving you permission to go ashore."

"What?" I seemed to be saying that a lot recently.

"Go ashore, find the chest, and make sure it's safe, then come back. I'll be sure to let you know when you've been away too long."

Before I could demand to know what was going on or anything else that might have been of use to me, she disappeared.

My father and Mark were waiting outside the door.

"You'll be needing some back up on this grand adventure, right Cap'n?" Mark asked, grinning.

A/N- Because this chapter is shorter than usual, I have included a small bonus. This is a short dialogue between Will and Calypso entitled 'Rollover Minutes.' It has nothing to do with the story.

I don't know much about mythology, but I would bet Poseidon isn't really Calypso's father. Deal with it.

Reviews are loved; flames will be used to burn the rum.

Rollover Minutes (Calypso speaks first)

"You have extra days you know."

"What?"

"Well, you haven't actually used all of those days you've had off."

"So I could use them whenever?"

"Yeah, like rollover minutes, only days."

"Rollover days?"

"You sound surprised. Just because I'm an ancient goddess doesn't mean I don't keep up with the times!"

"You have a cell phone?"

"Don't you?"

"Nah, no reception between worlds. Anyway, who would I call? Wait, who are you calling?"

"My business is my own Captain."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six- In Which the Author Manages to Stay in One Point of View

Alternately: In Which There is Almost a Desk Make-Out Scene, but the Author Restrained Herself, Because it Would Have Been Out of Character

A/N- Woo! Chapter six! This is the first chapter that didn't previously exist. I believe I have caught most of the information in the first five chapters that would cause continuity errors, but if I haven't, I take full responsibility for that. Also, I saw an opportunity to work something that is almost a movie quote into this chapter, so I took it. Props to you if you catch it.

No, still don't own anything.

-Will-

"You cannot come ashore with me," I said again. "You lived on this island jut two years ago; they know you."

"But I know the island!" Mark protested. "I know Jackie!"

I sighed. "And that is precisely why you must stay on the ship. How am I supposed to explain you?"

Mark and I had been arguing in circles for the past twenty minutes. The truth was the Dutchman only had three crewmembers, and one of us needed to stay with the ship. Mark was the obvious choice.

He rolled his eyes. "What, are you afraid the age difference is going to hurt your chances?"

"I am not interested in courting her!"

Mark raised his eyebrows. "It was a joke, Cap'n."

"Just… just stay with the ship."

I stood up, prepared to leave.

"Cap'n?"

"You're staying!" I snapped.

"It's not that." Mark was smirking. I suppose being nearly three hundred years old, I should have acquired some patience, but I still found myself sorely tempted to punch him. "The two of you can't go ashore dressed like that."

My father laughed. "The lad has a point, William."

Over the centuries, the Dutchman has taken on a lot of cargo, most of which will never be used. I'm not even entirely sure how it gets on to the ship; we've never loaded any on. It just appears. And much of this cargo was clothing.

I'd never bothered to dress in whatever style was currently considered normal; there wasn't any call for it with my job. However, Mark's point was valid. My father and I would hardly be inconspicuous dressed as we were.

We waited while Mark rifled through chests, picking out things that wouldn't stand out as much. A few minutes later he tossed a bundle of clothing at me.

"Those should do. And don't for get the shoes."

I changed in my cabin. The modern clothing wasn't uncomfortable, exactly, but I didn't feel like myself in the jeans and t-shirt. I could tell, when I rejoined him and Mark on the deck, that my father felt the same way.

Two large backpacks sat next to Mark. "I packed extra clothing, money, and what I am assuming are fake IDs and passports, just in case," Mark explained. "Have we always had those?"

"Thank you, Mark," I answered, ignoring the question. We'd never had anything of the sort. It seemed the sea goddess had taken it upon herself to make sure we were adequately supplied.

"Enjoy your trip, Cap'n!" Mark chirped with a grin.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

From my brief encounter with the town of Shipwreck a day earlier, I had taken it to be a sleepy, small town. As I wandered through crowded streets, hoping against reason that the inn Mark had given me direction to would just appear, I began to reassess that judgment.

"William, here." My father grabbed my arm, turning me around.

In front of us stood a four story building painted a bright turquoise. Gold lettering between the first and second story windows proclaimed it to be Fiddler's Green. A sign above the door added "Tavern and Hotel."

"Not so lost, are we?" he laughed and led the way to the inn.

A bell tinkled as we entered, causing the middle aged woman at the desk to look up.

"Looking for rooms?" she inquired with a smile.

While father handled the transaction, I studied the woman. Something about her bright eyes and easy smile seemed familiar.

"All right then," she chirped, interrupting my thoughts. "Your rooms are on the fourth floor. Gets up above the other buildings, so there's a lovely view. Dinner is at six, and is included with your stay."

We thanked her, and climbed the stairs, pausing on the fourth floor landing.

"What's the plan, then?" asked Father.

I paused. I hadn't really thought this through. "Take the day off." I held up a hand to silence any protests. "You haven't had a day off in centuries. I can handle the rest of today."

He smiled. "I don't suppose there'll be any arguing with you?"

"Absolutely not."

"You know, William, I think I may take the day off."

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Father."

We split off into our separate rooms. Shutting the door and facing the windows, I realized the owner had undersold this view. The room faced west, with the wall to the outside comprising mostly windows. Rooftops of black and brown shingles and gleaming silver aluminum appeared to run to the edge of the cliff, where the ocean dominated the scene.

I unpacked, shifting clothing from the pack to a small chest of drawers in the room. Finished, I returned down stairs.

The same woman still sat at the desk.

"Do you run this place alone?" I asked. I hadn't seen any help.

"I have some employees during the summer," she replied, "but they had the morning off today. My son used to help." She grew quiet.

I was beginning to think I knew what had happened to her son.

"He drowned," she continued. "Two years ago."

"I'm sorry," I murmured. He could have mentioned he was sending us to his mother!

The bell clanged, accompanied by a sudden burst of voices; thankfully breaking the awkward silence.

"Took your time, didn't you?" Mark's mother inquired, laughing.

The pale blond at the front of the group of four answered. "It is one thirty. We are early!"

I moved a bit closer, surveying the rest of the group. I quickly recognized Jacqueline Sparrow and the petite woman next to her as Cheng. I thought the dark haired man looked familiar, but I couldn't remember if I'd known his name.

"Hello Will Turner!" Cheng called, waving.

Jacqueline's head, which had been turned to speak with her friends, snapped around. She appeared surprised and maybe a little pleased. Or was I imagining that?

Mark's mother cleared her throat. "What am I paying you four to do? Stand in my doorway and chat with the guests?"

"No ma'am," the group chorused.

"Well alright then. Marius," she nodded at the blond. "Back to the kitchen. Cheng, maintenance rounds please. Alex, I need you to come back and help me with the accounts. Jackie, man the desk."

There was a moment of bustle as everyone moved out of the room. Jacqueline glanced around, making sure that Alex and Mark's mother were behind closed doors in the office before hopping onto the desk to sit.

"I am paid to talk to the guests, actually," she said. "Would you like to sit down, or do you have somewhere to be?"

For a moment, I hesitated. I needed to focus on locating the chest, I knew that. Still, something told me Jacqueline Sparrow could help. And maybe a part of me was just curious.

"No," I replied, sitting next to her. "I don't have any plans."

"Staying long?"

I considered how best to answer. My situation wasn't permanent, of course, and I hadn't the slightest clue how long this would take. I decided something close to the truth would be best.

"I'm not sure. My father decided we needed a break, so here we are."

"You're wearing normal clothes," she commented.

"Er…"

"No, no! They seemed to suit you. The old-fashioned stuff, I mean."

"They are a little ostentatious though."

Jacqueline laughed. "I supposed. Why were you wearing them anyway? I never got around to asking."

"It's part of my job." Still not exactly a lie.

"I would berate you for pandering to tourists, but I work at a hotel."

I laughed. God, how long had it been since I'd really laughed?

"Off the desk!"

We both jumped.

"Yes ma'am, Mrs. Austen, ma'am." Jacqueline turned to give her a jaunty salute.

"And dragging poor Mr. Turner down with you?" Mrs. Austen asked. "Have you no shame?"

"Oh course!" Jacqueline exclaimed. "If I were utterly shameless, I would have been kissing him."

Mrs. Austen shook her head. "You're going to scare off my guests, Sparrow."

The dark haired man, Alex, glared at me, as if Jacqueline's quips were my fault.

"Turner doesn't mind," Jacqueline said, slipping her arm around my waist.

I froze. Part of me, a larger part than I cared to admit, wanted to stay and see where this would lead. The sensible part of me took a step back.

"Perhaps another time," I said, smiling gently. There, a compromise.

"Well, at least he's got a sense of propriety!" Mrs. Austen sniffed.

Alex's eyes had widened, but he quickly schooled his features when he noticed me watching. Then he returned to glaring.

"I think I will go and explore the town, actually," I said and left.

I feel I did an adequate job of walking out quite normally, but once I stepped on to the street, I took off running. Several streets away from the inn, I turned into an empty side street. Stopping, I leaned against a cool stone building and tried to pull myself together.

"She's the daughter of Jack Sparrow," I told myself. "You are not going to see her in any romantic capacity. The entire idea is completely out of the question."

A/N- A bit of a filler chapter, things should pick up soon. Reviews are wonderful, constructive criticisms are welcome. Flames will be used to burn the rum. Also, while it is my goal and sincere intention to have chapter seven up by the end of May, I'm also entering the last two weeks of my school year, so there may not be an update until June.


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